


just you wait

by CyrusBreeze



Series: The Other 51 [13]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrusBreeze/pseuds/CyrusBreeze
Summary: Alexander Hamilton got handed every rotten card that life had to offer, but the hell hes been through never dampened his dreams. There’s a million things he hasn’t done, so just you wait.





	just you wait

**Author's Note:**

> DRUNK ME WRITES TOO MUCH FIC. 
> 
> This is, by far, not the greatest thing I’ve written, but it’s probably the best thing I’ve written while under the influence. 
> 
> Here’s some insight into Alex’s childhood. At some point, I’ll write his life in New York. 
> 
> Per usual, I make absolutely no promises about quality.

Alejandro Matteo Hamilton was born on the second Thursday in January to a Puerto Rican mother and a creole father. Perhaps, the first sign of what was to be a difficult childhood was the fact that James Hamilton, Alexander’s supposed and legal father, had refused to be in the room when he was born. In fact, James Hamilton had elected to pick his wife up from the hospital only after she was released. 

He regarded the infant with disdain. 

“Alejandro is a foolish name,” James told his wife as she placed the baby in Junior’s old car seat. 

“Maybe if you were there when I put his name on the birth certificate, you could’ve said something,” said Rachel sharply. 

“And why would I do that?” James asked, drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “It’s not mine.” 

“His name is Alejandro, and he’s not an It,” Rachel retorted. 

“We’ll call him Alexander,” said James. “I will not have this child be any further embarrassment to me.” 

Rachel huffed and settled into the front seat. “He looks just like me,” she said. “No need to worry about being embarrassed.” 

“People are already asking questions about how I know he’s mine if I was deployed at the time he was most likely conceived,” James bit out, glaring at his wife. 

“It was off by a month,” replied Rachel. “Babies are born early all the time, and we agreed not to speak of this if I named you the father.” 

“We also agreed that you’d have an abortion,” said James. “But suddenly you’re catholic and can’t do it in good conscious. You might not realize this, but Thou Shalt not Commit Adultery is in the Ten Commandments.” 

“I’ve always been Catholic, James,” Rachel said. “And I’m not going to kill an innocent baby because I made a mistake. Thou shalt not kill is also in the Ten Commandments, and one sin won’t fix the other. And if you didn’t want me to raise my son, then you shouldn’t have told me to put your name on the birth certificate. I’m sure his father would’ve wanted him.” 

James growled as they pulled into their driveway. “Do whatever you want, Rachel. Just make sure your son doesn’t bother me.” He opened his car door, stepped out, and slammed it, waking the tiny infant from his slumber. 

The boy began to scream, and Rachel Faucette Hamilton liked to think that had it not been so unseasonably cold for that January day, or had she known how to drive, or if she had any contact with her son’s biological father, or if any number of circumstances were different, she would’ve taken her boys, and she would’ve left, but life is funny that way. Things never tend to work out, and so, she stayed. 

-X- 

By the time Alex was four, he learned that he had to be quiet. 

He had once dropped a vase, his mom’s favorite vase, and his Father had been so angry that Alex had gotten a spanking. His bottom still had lingering marks. He learned very quickly that he had to be very careful around Father. 

Junior learned too. He learned that if he blamed something on Alex, even if Junior was at fault, Alex was going to get spanked. It wasn’t out of malice, Alex knew; a spanking from Father was ridiculously painful and near impossible to endure. Father had a belt, with small rounded bits of metal on the edges, that hurt so badly that oftentimes Alex couldn’t sit after a particularly rough day. 

Mom helped whenever she could, applying antibiotic cream to where Alex’s skin had split open, and making sure his bottom stayed clean so that it wouldn’t get infected. Mom tried to help in other ways. 

She was going to leave Father, once, when Alex was six, and Father threatened to put Alex in the hospital. And Alex learned on that date that his Father was not his real Father. It made sense; he hardly looked like Father, and Father always regarded Alex’s differences with disdain. It also explained why Junior was treated differently than Alex. 

Alex tried not to let this knowledge bother him, but he didn’t succeed. 

-X-

When he was nine, he heard his mom and Father arguing worse than ever. 

He crept down the stairs and sat on the last step to listen. 

“What do you mean you’ve been discharged?” Mom was demanding. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Father yelled.

“You had sex with a fifteen year old!” Mom yelled back. “How is it not your fault?” 

“I didn’t know she was fifteen, Rach, I swear, she told me she was eighteen,” came Father’s retort. 

“You shouldn’t have been sleeping with anyone regardless,” Mom’s reply was cold.

“Like you can talk,” Father sneered. “Or did you forget that I’m the one supporting your son? He’s eating my food, using my benefits, and sleeping in my house, and you want to talk to me about fidelity?” 

“That was ten years ago, James,” Mom said softly. “I’ve been faithful to you ever since.” 

“I don’t give a damn about you being faithful ever since,” Father retorted. “I have to wake up every morning and look at your bastard.” 

“If it bothers you so much, James,” Mom said, and her voice sounded very hard. “Why don’t you leave?” 

“I think I will,” Father said. 

The conversation stopped, and Alex scrambled up the stairs before his parents could spot him eavesdropping. 

When he awoke the next morning, Father was gone. 

He didn’t come back. 

-X- 

Mom didn’t make enough for them to stay in the house. They moved into a one bedroom apartment when Mom found a job in New Orleans. 

Alex and Junior slept in the bedroom and Mom slept on the pull out bed in the couch. Alex knew they were poor, far poorer than they had been when they had at least had Father’s benefits. 

Most nights, they they are pasta or rice and beans for dinner. It was the cheapest thing available. All of Mom’s paycheck went to paying rent and keeping the lights on. They couldn’t afford anything else, and Alex went to school without breakfast most mornings. He got free lunch which helped, and some days he was even afforded an afternoon snack if they got good food from the food bank. 

Junior, who was fourteen, disappeared most nights. Mom worked nights, so Alex was usually left home alone. 

Three months before Alex’s twelfth birthday, his class got invited on a field trip to the Louisiana Capitol. Alex couldn’t go because he couldn’t afford the fees. He cried the entire day after he got home from school and Junior tried to comfort him. 

“I’m gonna be there one day,” Alex said. 

“You can visit the Capitol next year,” Junior said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Alex shook his head furiously. “I’m not gonna visit. I’m gonna work there, but at the real Capitol, the one in DC. I’m gonna be president.” 

Junior chuckled. “If you study hard enough, you can do anything, although I don’t know why you want to work with a bunch of old white guys. “ 

“I want to be able to change things. The federal government controls the budget. If I’m president, I can help make laws that help families like us, so they can eat every day.” 

Junior ruffled Alex’s hair. “You work at that, mijo. You’re so smart, I know you’ll succeed.” 

“And once I’m rich,” Alex agreed. “I’m moving mama into a big house. She won’t ever have to work again.”

He never got the chance. Mom lost her job a week later. Then, summer came. 

Alex went to bed hungry more often then he went to bed with any food. Junior spent all of his time out of the apartment, but he came home with dinner most nights: usually rice or beans but sometimes, on good days, there was chicken or beef from the market.”

It wasn’t until a police officer knocked on his door that he learned why Junior was never home and where he got the money from.

“Your son was shot and killed in a gang related incident,” the officer explained. “We believe that it was related to drugs.” 

And that was it. They got a ride to the hospital to identify Junior’s body, and they couldn’t afford a funeral, so they had him cremated, and his ashes were given to them in a Ziploc bag. 

Mom stopped trying after that. Alex didn’t blame her. She had lost her son, her favorite child, and the only child she had left was the one that was responsible for the destruction of her marriage. 

Mom still loved him, but the light had left her eyes and she cried daily. The job search stopped, and if it weren’t for the neighbors occasionally bringing groceries, Alex would have had nothing to eat. 

He got sick in October, but they couldn’t afford to even go to the doctor so Alex stayed home from school. He and his mother spent their days in a high fevered haze. 

“We should go to the doctor,” Alex rasped one night. “We’ll feel better.” 

His mom brushed his head with a cool washcloth. “We can’t afford it, mijo. But if your fever gets any worse, we’ll have to go.” 

Things did not get better. His mother’s fever had spiked to 106 degrees on the day that she died. Alex tried in vain to bring it down, but he, with a fever of 103, could hardly bring himself to get out of bed. He managed to make it to the phone to call for help just as his mom started seizing. He crawled back into bed and curled up against his mom’s chest. 

“Alejandro,” his mom whispered. “I love you so much. You’re gonna do good things, okay? Promise me you’ll keep working hard even after I’m gone.”

“Mom, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” Alex whispered back. “The paramedics are on their way and they’re gonna help you.” 

“Shhhh, Alej,” his mom whispered. She never called him Alej. It was always, always, Alex. “Promise me you’ll be okay.” 

“I’ll be fine, Mom,” Alex said. “And you will be too. Help will be here soon.”

“Alej,” his mom continued, and her voice sounded more broken than Alex had ever heard it, even after Junior died. “You are brilliant, mijo. Get your education, and you’ll do anything you set your mind too. Be smart, mijo. Do not throw away your shot.” 

His mom gasped, and then her eyes went wide and she began to seize again. Alex tried to reach out to her, but everything went black.

-X- 

Alex didn’t need the hospital social worker to tell him that his mom was dead. He felt it in his soul. 

His Uncle Peter was there to take him back to New York when he got better. Alex knew that Uncle Peter didn’t have much money, and that coming to pick Alex up was beyond what Uncle Peter could afford, but Alex was happy to see someone familiar. 

It took nearly a month, but Alex got better.

Alex rode on a plane for the first time at thirteen. 

“New York will be a new start for you,” Uncle Peter said. “I don’t have much money, but you’ll have so many opportunities, mijo. Your Mom would want you to take them.” 

Alex gave a small smile to his uncle. “I’m gonna be president one day,” he decided. 

“That’s a big responsibility, mijo,” Uncle Peter said. “You’ll have to work very hard for that.” 

“I know,” Alex said. “But I’m gonna be successful. Just you wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Plotting to kill me for making our son suffer? 
> 
> Leave a comment!


End file.
